


The sea whispered your name

by Mother_North



Series: Enchantment [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Brother/Brother Incest, Character Death, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Drama, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insanity, Lust, M/M, Magical Realism, Obsession, Other, Psychology, Sea Monsters, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Tentacle Sex, Tragedy, for adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: Shoma kneels by the seawater, it looks warm and inviting during this time of the season but he doesn’t let it touch his bare feet, knowing its submissiveness is oftentimes deceptive. The sea has already taken too many of the ones he cared about, too many of the ones he loved, dividing his whole life in two.He has come to the sea today to commemorate those who have passed away, leaving a gap in his soul, its edges corroded by sea-salt and bitterness.Shoma closes his eyes, relentless sunrays of midsummer beating down on the top of his head and takes a deep breath, his mind travelling to the days of his childhood and youth, spent on the islands stretched out amidst great vastness of the sea…He has to remember at all costs.





	The sea whispered your name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puniyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/gifts).



> Sort of a fairy-tail with a darker tint to it, written as a gift to my great fellow-author Puniyo, whose phrase “made of fish scales” (you know what I mean, dear ;) inspired it and whose works I find to be enjoyable and captivating to no end.  
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies to this work of fiction in full and it is not meant to offend anyone.  
> Also, tags are there for a reason. Possible disturbing content such as a mention of suicide, incest, tentacle sex and death of one (?) of major characters are present.  
> Please, be warned and read at your own risk.

**

_The sea_

_smiles far-off._

_Spume-teeth,_

_sky-lips._

_‘What do you sell, troubled child,_

_child with naked breasts?’_

_‘Sir, I sell_

_salt-waters of the sea.’_

_‘What do you carry, dark child,_

_mingled with your blood?’_

_‘Sir, I carry_

_salt-waters of the sea.’_

_‘These tears of brine_

_where do they come from, mother?’_

_‘Sir, I cry_

_salt-waters of the sea.’_

_‘Heart, this deep bitterness,_

_where does it rise from?’_

_‘So bitter, the salt-waters_

_of the sea!’_

_The sea_

_smiles far-off._

_Spume-teeth._

_Sky-lips._

— Federico García Lorca, “The Ballad of the Salt-Water”

 

.....●·._..●·._..●·._.·´

 Shoma is watching waves licking seashore, eyes distant and unblinking. The twelfth of the seventh month — a date which evokes memories and stirs feelings that are better be buried for good, once the sun is down again, for a year’s time. More than two decades have passed but it doesn’t want to let go, it keeps on clinging to his sweaty skin in the form of suffocating, recurring nightmares, it keeps on chasing him as unbidden tears stream down his cheeks once he hears a wistful melody of a _s_ _hakuhachi_ and he has to turn away hastily, avoiding curious glances and unasked questions. It still makes his chest constrict, a heavy stone lying next to his heart, sometimes making him desperately wish to stop breathing all together.

Shoma kneels by the seawater, it looks warm and inviting during this time of the season but he doesn’t let it touch his bare feet, knowing its submissiveness is oftentimes deceptive. The sea has already taken too many of the ones he cared about, too many of the ones he loved, dividing his whole life in two — _before_ and _after_ the accursed sunrise of the twelfth day of the month of July.

He has come to the sea today to commemorate those who have passed away, leaving a gap in his soul, its edges corroded by sea-salt and bitterness. 

Shoma closes his eyes, relentless sunrays of midsummer beating down on the top of his head and takes a deep breath, his mind travelling to the days of his childhood and youth, spent on the islands stretched out amidst great vastness of the sea…

He has to remember at all costs.

**

A small, typically-looking fishing village with its wooden houses scattered all across a shoreline was a place, where Shoma and his two elder brothers — Keiji and Yuzuru were born. There was a five-year difference between the three of them, Keiji being the eldest and Shoma — the youngest one.

Everyone in the settlement knew each other well and their parents were respected for their modesty and diligence. Their father owned a little boat and used to go to sea for living, so that they could trade the catch to people from the mainland, their mother waiting for his return, while looking after their three children and making simple necklaces out of seashells and tiny shining fish scales whenever she had a spare minute, free from her house chores.

Days passed by in uncomplicated routine, the rhythm of village life dictated by the ever-commanding sea with its storms and flat calms. Shoma remembered the way their mother’s laughter sounded, mischievous and lively even in the hardest of times, her vibrant nature seemingly illuminating the darkest corners of their shabby dwelling, making it _the coziest_ as if by magic and the way their father’s embrace felt — warm and safe, calloused fingers ruffling his unruly locks.

He thought it was going to last forever that way. He was small and naïve back then, just a child, who had yet to learn the true cruelty of the sea and the doom its untamed waves could bring upon those dependable on its whims.

The skies were overcast, air heavy with foreboding, lazy autumn sun refusing to look at the village inhabitants’ petty doings. A violent gust of wind had brought storm which was raging for two days — many fishermen not returning from the sea, their father being one of those, who didn’t escape their grim fate.

Their mother seemed inconsolable and Shoma thought that flow of her tears would never cease. He remembered hearing a village shaman Kikuchi telling mourners that the Sea God had beckoned lost fishermen to his underwater halls where they were to sit as honorable guests at his feast for the rest of eternity, eating oysters and drinking the best of amber ale. Yuzuru shouted that he didn’t believe it, storming out of the room, their mother apologizing to the Elder profusely for her son’s misconduct. To tell the truth, Shoma’s thoughts were exactly the same but he didn’t utter a word. As for Keiji, he kept silence for days on end till one morning, when he took their father’s boat after having embraced their mother. He took the sea for the first time. Shoma had never seen someone growing up so fast — in a span of several days a youthful and a smiley older brother he used to know was gone to be replaced by a stern young man, who had to learn how to smile all over again.

They were all robbed of their childhood to varying degrees.

The worst was yet to come — cold winds brought with them pestilence, which spared no none, their mother’s frail chest torn by dry cough, sickly odor of death invading their little house. Kikuchi was their frequent visitor at the time, spending hours at their mother’s bedside, his paper-white lips whispering unknown incantations and his wrinkly fingers smelling of medical herbs. Compassion was mixing itself with helplessness in the old man’s eyes as he told the three of them that their mother had died — her deceased form lying on sweat-drenched sheets, her dear face bloodless, lifeless eyes closed forever.

They spent that fateful night, sitting by the hearth, hugging each other tight, fighting for warmth and trying not to let the flame of life subside in their aching chests — alone to struggle for a place under the sun in this cruel world, together to support and protect one another; Shoma remembered crying into Keiji’s firm shoulder as Yuzuru was desperately trying to bite back his gut-wrenching sobs, albeit to no avail.

**

At last, spring came. As days were getting longer, Shoma liked spending time on the beach: its stony, mostly desolated expanse being to his liking. He would often sit alone, listening to endless sighing of the sea, his fingers playing with pebble idly, waiting for a sail of Keiji’s boat to appear on the blurred horizon.  Once in a while, he would take Nobunari with him — a harmless village softhead, who used to keep him company from time to time: quietly muttering under his breath, a half-conscious smile twisting his thick lips, or pointlessly chasing seagulls across the shore.

Sometimes Shoma asked Yuzuru to accompany him but his brother always declined his invitations, preferring to be on his own, spending time in his room playing his beloved shakuhachi — the most treasured of his belongings or staring at his own reflection into a bronzed mirror, which he kept by his bedside. Shoma peeked into Yuzuru’s room unnoticed late at night the other time, catching him drinking in his own image in front of a polished surface, his face illuminated by a flickering light of a lonely candle. Word of his brother’s rare beauty spread quick, yet, Shoma thought it could hardly do justice to the lily-white silkiness of Yuzuru’s unblemished skin or to the slenderness of his tall frame, his carmine-red, thin lips and chiseled features sealed with perfection. It didn’t escape Shoma, the way Yuzuru caught everyone’s gazes whenever he appeared in the only village street — his unassuming dark robe, that went well past his knees, contrasting his pale glory with its plainness and a single braided leather strap accentuating  narrowness of his wasp waist.    

Shoma honestly considered his senior brother Keiji handsome too, but with a completely different, manly type of beauty — his refined, high cheekbones looked noble to Shoma and his broad shoulders and lithe frame spoke of Keiji’s formidable strength; maybe, his weather-beaten skin wasn’t anywhere near as smooth as Yuzuru’s but his sable-black hair which cascaded down his back, partially tied up into a loose bun, was beautiful. Once, as Shoma was heading to a local food market with Keiji, he heard some girls giggling, while stealing glances and looking all agitated and flushed. He sensed it was _not_ because of him.

One day, Shoma stole a glance at his own reflection when Yuzuru was away, and he wasn’t particularly impressed with what he saw — his lips chapped and dark-brown hair tousled; he thought he looked like a _wild_ thing. He thought he looked _nothing_ like the two of his brothers and he didn’t find his appearance to be remarkable in the slightest. Not that it bothered him too much, though, for he knew, that his main gifts were unseen — his inborn perceptiveness, composed nature and pragmatic mind coming as his own hidden weapons of choice.

Shoma knew better than judging things by their appearance, no matter how flashy it may possibly seem.

**

Nobunari was tugging the sleeve of Shoma’s shirt vigorously, his whole countenance glowing excitedly as he seemingly wanted to show Shoma something.  Constantly smiling, Nobunari led him to a hidden path, lost among massive stones; Shoma would have never guessed it existed, in the first place. A tiny bay surrounded by rocks, at the foot of a steep cliff, which was guarded securely from the outside world greeted his amazed gaze.

Even the sea seemed quieter here, waves murmuring soothingly.

“Sea God…Sea God!”

Nobunari pointed his finger, bowing enthusiastically. Shoma saw no one, except Yuzuru sitting on his heels by the spuming water. His brother turned abruptly, sensing their presence and looking frustrated. It seemed he didn’t want this hideout of his to be discovered. Yuzuru hated when his privacy was disrupted. The expression on his face said it all, a corner of his mouth twitching nervously, nostrils flaring from a barely concealed indignation. Shoma noticed Yuzuru was clenching his flute in one of his delicate hands.

“Can’t find a _better_ company, Shoma?” Yuzuru rushed to leave, pebbles rustling beneath his leather sandals. The sea was seemingly echoing his displeasure, spluttering seafoam at all sides, waves swelling.

“Sea God!”

Nobunari cried out with feeling, Yuzuru’s vivid displeasure lost on him completely.

“It is only Yuzuru, you silly Nobu.”

Shoma knew there was no point in trying to argue with his companion, Nobunari’s stubborn conviction at times verging on crazy.

“Foolish Shoma! Sea God likes Yuzu. Likes Yuzu the best…Best of all. ”

“Yeah, sure he does. Everyone likes Yuzu, you know.”

 Shoma sighed, catching Nobunari’s hand in his and urging him to return to the beach with him, the man’s stupid babbling sounding in Shoma’s head obnoxiously till the very evening of that day.

**

Juniper was crackling merrily in the hearth, filling the whole room with its invigorating aroma as shadows were dancing across the wooden house walls. Keiji came in, looking tired but satisfied, the catch being quite good. He said that while he was at the mainland he had bought something for both — Shoma and Yuzuru.

Shoma laughed happily, clapping his little palms, when he saw what his senior brother had obtained him — a long-coveted spyglass. It looked used and old but Shoma found it great, nevertheless.

Keiji handled a little bundle to Yuzuru without spilling a word, a bashful smile ghosting across his features. Yuzuru bit his bottom lip, fingers fumbling with the cloth before opening it to reveal a tiny treasure — a _black pearl_ , which, while looking beautiful, seemed totally useless to Shoma, not to mention, that it must have been rather expensive.

_Sometimes Keiji was prone to doing foolish and reckless things._

“Oh, Keiji!”

 Yuzuru threw his arms around their brother’s neck, burying his fingers in Keiji’s long, dark locks. Shoma could already imagine Yuzuru staring at the pearl for hours nonstop.

He bit the inside of his mouth before blurting out.

“Why do you always buy him gifts as if he were _a girl_? First a mirror and now this…gem?”

Keiji blushed profusely. Yuzuru’s eyes were shooting daggers at Shoma, his pouty lips beginning to quiver.

“I am not a girl! And you’d better shut up before I show you how _real boys_ fight!”

“Stop now! Both of you!”

Keiji intercepted Yuzuru’s wrist in midair.

 

The supper would have been irreparably spoiled if not for a sudden visit of Miki, a local village girl, who had brought some of her special stewed tuna, Keiji kindly inviting her to share a meal with them. They were all seated at the round table, Shoma having his second serving already, even though it reminded him of a jellyfish and Keiji munching enthusiastically while assuring Miki that it was definitely her best attempt at cooking so far. Yuzuru was less diplomatic, though, managing only the tiniest of bits and retreating to his room solemnly.

Shoma thought dimples on Miki’s cheeks looked awfully cute while she was laughing at Keiji’s mediocre jokes. Her flowing, raven hair was shining in the dim light and Shoma realized why she was considered one of the prettiest girls in their village. Everyone noticed the way she used to look at Keiji, her eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously. It was obvious that she was smitten with him and was trying her best to make Keiji love her back.

Keiji saw Miki home and the moment he closed the doors behind him, Shoma asked him bluntly:

“Why don’t you marry her? She seems really sweet and besides she wants you to.”

Keiji chuckled, fingers scratching his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully.

“Yes, she is nice and all and I like her very much but…”

“But she is not Yuzuru.”

A baffled laugh escaped Keiji, before his expression turned grave.

“Stop talking nonsense, Shoma, and go have some sleep!” He sounded irritated.

Shoma turned on his heels and went to bed obediently. He was lying awake, staring at the ceiling for a long time, before he finally managed to dive into some troubled dream.

**

Yuzuru was nowhere to be found the following day and it seemed that he left right after Keiji had. Shoma greeted his eldest brother with the news that Yuzuru was still to be found and the look of sincere panic written all over Keiji’s face panged Shoma’s heart. They searched for him among the cliffs and at the seaside, knowing that he could be extremely secretive if he wanted to.

It was already dark when Yuzuru materialized at the threshold of their house with a wicker basket full of crabs, their claws still moving. He was trembling from exhaustion and cold while Keiji was trembling from fury, his cheeks getting hot from anger and worry.

“Where have you been the whole day? You’ll get ill! Just look at yourself!”

Keiji grabbed Yuzuru in his arms, taking off his damp clothes and wrapping him into a woolen blanket under Shoma’s inscrutable gaze.

“Shoma, make some hot tea! Quick!”

He did just that, watching Keiji examining Yuzuru’s feet carefully: they had several ugly blisters and cuts from sharp stones. Keiji put one of Yuzuru’s legs on his lap and applied some of the strong-smelling, healing balm, while Yuzuru was hissing in pain through his gritted teeth, struggling not to make a sound.

“Don’t you ever dare do something like this again, Yuzuru!”

Keiji chided their headstrong brother, though, his voice sounded impossibly soft to Shoma.

“But I wanted to help, you can sell those crabs and…”

Keiji stood up abruptly, disappearing for a couple of minutes before returning to the room with Yuzuru’s  shakuhachi in his hand.

“Here… If you really want to do something — better play for me one of your melodies… I love hearing you play. I really do, Yuzu.”

Yuzuru complied, his tapered fingers moving expertly, unsophisticated and tender melody filling the silent room. Keiji’s eyes became hazy and distant, a dreamlike expression sweeping over his features, as musical notes kept on building higher and higher reaching their shrilling climax inevitably, only to dissolve into the quietness of the night without a trace.

Yuzuru opened his half-closed eyes as he had finished playing, meeting Keiji’s searing gaze for the briefest of moments, both of them breathing slightly heavily.

Shoma averted his eyes, avoiding looking at his brothers — indescribable vague anxiousness coiling inside his chest.

Yuzuru spent the following day lying in bed, getting on Shoma’s nerves constantly with different trifle errands of his and threatening to tell Keiji in case Shoma dared to complain.

Shoma thought he hated him back then, while paradoxically caring about him deeply at the same time, his short legs failing due to fatigue by the time Keiji returned home later than usual on that night.

**

Shoma’s eyes flew open, all of a sudden, full midsummer moon prying at him through the opened window. He hopped out of his bed, putting on a pair of sandals and a dark cloak, legs taking him outside of the house — to the great beach, as if on their own accord.

He noticed that Yuzuru’s bed was empty and it made indistinct suspicion rise within him.

Sea breeze caressed his skin, bringing salty freshness along with it. The night was pleasantly warm and tranquil, shadowy silhouettes of pines framing a narrow trail down the slope, which led him straight to the whispering sea.

Shoma couldn’t fathom what mysterious force made him go directly to Yuzuru’s secret spot on that particular night. He was moving stealthily among dead stones, eyes seeing everything clearly under the moonlight.

Alas, nothing in the world could prepare him for what he had witnessed upon reaching his destination: Yuzuru’s completely naked form was kneeling submissively, sea water licking his quivering thighs lustfully, his head thrown back in a tortured ecstasy as several glossy _tentacles_ were entwining his body — _slick and powerful_ : one sliding down his slender waist, the other — caressing his raging erection leisurely as the third one was slithering between his obscenely spread legs, to thrust up from beneath into his shuddering body; while _the creature_ the unnatural tentacles belonged to was remaining obscured by the boiling dark waters of _its_ domain. 

A strangled cry died down in Shoma’s dry throat, his legs buckling underneath him, refusing to support his weight any longer. Indescribable dread made him unable to think _at all_. His skin broke out in a cold sweat, which made his cloak cling to his shivering body just the way those alien tentacles were clinging to Yuzuru’s wiggling body as lecherous moans were spilling from his parted lips, his whole body glowing, bathing in silvery light of the moon — a sinful apparition that could drive a previously sane person mad with its depravity in the blink of an eye.

_The Sea God likes Yuzu._

Nobunari’s mocking voice tore Shoma out of his shock-induced trance. He didn’t remember how he got to his bed, waking peacefully sleeping Keiji along the way, while stumbling in the darkness, not caring about objects he could possibly sent flying to the floor.  

“Hey, Sho..? Are you, alright?”

Keiji’s voice couldn’t reach Shoma’s stubbornly-refusing-to-cooperate-for-now mind and he only managed muttering something incomprehensible instead of any semblance of a proper answer or explanation.

“Yuzuru…Yuzu…is…Nobu knew…He knew…Everything.”

Keiji’s eyes flashed with concern at the mention of Yuzuru’s name and he glanced at his still empty, unmade bunk.

“Keiji, don’t go…Don’t go, please…”

Shoma’s helpless exhortations were met only by a sound of an already closing door, as comforting darkness took mercy of him, finally, wrapping itself around his hectic mind like a thick, impenetrable veil.

Sleep is the best anesthetic, after all.

**

Keiji saw Yuzuru’s swaying figure walking across the beach from afar. He ran as fast as he could, legs disobeying, small pebbles making it hard, as he was hurtling towards his own doom unwittingly.  A wave of fright rose in Keiji as he saw that Yuzuru was absolutely nude, night wind biting at his exposed skin. Keiji stopped in front of him, looking into his brother’s face bewildered, for Yuzuru was truly _terrifying_ at the moment — wide-eyed and shivering, hands coming to Keiji’s neck to squeeze him in a desperate embrace, his bitten lips crushing Keiji’s mouth with bruising force and surprising dominance.

Keiji was stunned, each nerve ending in his body aflame, by the mere rawness of Yuzuru’s apparent need — his slender fingers tearing at Keiji’s shirt with uncanny force, clawing at his chest, leaving burning scratches, making his head swim with his own awakening mad desire. Yet, at first, he tried to shove Yuzuru away, his inner voice screaming at him, urging him to stop, not letting be swept by the impending insanity of their _forbidden_ passion. He felt as if he was trapped in one of his nightmarish dreams, struggling to get way out of its intoxicating frenzy, _wanting_ and realizing that he _just_ _can’t_ , blood ringing in his ears deafeningly.

“Please…please…”

Yuzuru’s feverish whispers were robbing Keiji of his will to resist, remnants of his self-control evaporating as he felt Yuzuru’s lips closing around the tip of his throbbing cock. Yuzuru bobbled his head, sucking tightly, Keiji’s trembling hands finding their way to the back of his head to settle a demanding rhythm, as he kept on thrusting into Yuzuru’s eager mouth — his sanity crumbling, overpowered by acute pleasure, his long-suppressed lust scorching from within.

He groaned in ecstasy, hot and needy as Yuzuru swallowed around him.

Keiji brought Yuzuru flat against his flushed body, claiming his lips in a sloppy kiss, as his younger brother straddled his hips. Keiji was licking saltiness off the delicate skin of Yuzuru’s neck, wet gliding of his tongue making Yuzuru moan. He secretly longed to taste Yuzuru for so long and he couldn’t get enough once he started.  

Keiji cried out as Yuzuru took him in his hand and sank down very slowly, taking his length in — all the way to the hilt, in one torturously drown-out slide. Yuzuru remained still for several endless moments before raising his narrow hips and starting riding Keiji with fierce abandon, his body moving with confident grace on top of Keiji’s withering form: his defined abs contracting, beads of sweat rolling down his neck, eyes drinking in the image of him hungrily.

There was no distance between their obscenely entwined bodies, as Keiji felt himself practically _dying_ , buried so deeply inside Yuzuru’s tight heat. He was tracing his tiny waist, fingers barely touching — a reverent caress on Yuzuru’s dewy skin as his muscular hips kept on thrusting up forcefully, fucking into him, lost in _pure_ bliss.

Yuzuru’s voice was hoarse from cries, his sweet spot assaulted each time Keiji impaled him on his hard cock, blinding pleasure cutting through his body like a sharp blade, exquisite torture wrecking him.

“Fill me…Fill me…”

Yuzuru whined brokenly, his wanton pleas making Keiji’s head spin.

He lost it the moment he felt Yuzuru’s teeth piercing the skin of his shoulder, powerful climax flooding his consciousness, as he came into his brother’s inviting tightness.

Yuzuru kept on chasing his own release, bouncing on top of Keiji, head thrown back, arms giving away from strain. He reached his orgasm with a tantalizing groan, spilling on Keiji’s sweaty stomach and heaving chest, his essence floating somewhere _beyond_ thought and reason.

Keiji didn’t know how much time had passed before he was able to move again, his arms snaking around Yuzuru protectively, cradling his fragile form close, as he was peppering his moist forehead and cheeks with feathery kisses. Yuzuru was clutching Keiji’s shoulders, blunt nails digging in, as he was cuddling in his brother’s strong arms, seeking warmth and trying to catch his breath.

Indifferent stars were blinking at them from above, unaffected by what they had just witnessed, as a ruthless realization started to descend upon Keiji slowly, seizing his whole being with terror and guilt.

He was being torn by shame as he was carrying Yuzuru in his arms back to his bed while trying to move as silently as possible, so that he wouldn’t wake Shoma up.

Hot tears didn’t bring relief as he kissed Yuzuru for the last time, his _accursed_ beloved purring softly, exhausted and hardly conscious in his peaceful drowsiness.

Keiji looked at Shoma's unsuspecting face, sharp pain of regret stabbing him through his heart as he took a final decision.

First rays of summer dawn adorned him in gold, as he stepped into the saltwater, sea singing its requiem over his lost soul, waves closing over his body like a shroud.

**

Kikuchi’s mournful voice echoed above the heads of the gathered, as he struggled to outcry the roar of the waves, Keiji’s body having been spat out by the cruel sea three days earlier. Shoma looked at Miki’s grief-stricken face, dark bags under her lifeless eyes. She was mute just as Shoma, not a single word or tear left. Yuzuru was nowhere to be seen and Shoma didn’t have it in him to look him in the eyes, not after their last meeting.

Shoma broke into Yuzuru’s room on the day Keiji’s body had been discovered, bursting into tears, his self-control snapping. He screamed, suffocating, wanting to lie there on the beach instead of Keiji.

“What have you done? What you and that _thing_ have done to him?”

Yuzuru flinched, his features sharpened by sleepless nights, impossibly pale lips stretching into a scary smile, cracking his whole countenance akin to a broken mirror glass.

Shoma backed off as Yuzuru extended his thin arm towards him, his delicate wrist appearing right in front of Shoma’s sobbing face.

“Can you smell _him_? His scent is on my skin still…He wanted me, he loved me…I…”

“That is why _you_ killed him, selfish bastard!”

Shoma slapped Yuzuru hard, his head turning to the side from the impact, burning cheek stinging painfully. He didn’t make any effort to protect himself, eyes downcast — withdrawn and apathetic expression returning to his worn-out countenance.

All defenses: on high alert.

And the next moment Shoma fled, leaving behind his native home, his former life and his former self.

For better or for worse.

He desperately latched onto the only opportunity that could save him from insanity.

**

Years had passed before he heard about Yuzuru’s unexplainable disappearance. He heard all kind of rumors about his brother: some saying that he sailed to far-off lands, having boarded a passing ship without telling anyone while Kikuchi insisted that Yuzuru had been beckoned by the Sea God, just like his brother before him, and Nobunari — was assuring everyone that Yuzuru had turned into a seagull, to fly freely to whatever destination he might want to.

Not that it mattered to Shoma anyway, Yuzuru becoming a living _ghost_ to him, the day Keiji was found dead, on the twelfth day of the month of July.

He prepares to leave as he spots a lonely seagull not far away from him, its head tilted, beady eyes watching him with curiosity. Shoma starts walking away, with his hands shoved into pockets of his trousers, yet, the bird keeps on following his every movement as if on purpose.

Shoma stops for a moment before saying quietly:

“Tell him that I have forgiven him.”

As childish and as foolishly naïve as it might sound, it somehow did his heart good.

.....●·._..●·._..●·._.·´

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is appreciated. Thank you.


End file.
